Black and white
by Claude Amelia Song
Summary: Severus is a doctor and Hermione is his helper, something less than an apprentice and more than a servant. They're friends. She has lived near his house forever and became his helper because not only was she fascinated by his work-healing people- but she fell for him too. But neither have the courage to admit, until it's not too late.


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. Also, the first part of Hagrid speech too(with the alley being a dodgy place)**

 **For My favourite Dairy Product (guess who) Merry Christmas, my darling!**

Quidditch League **F** anfiction Competition

Finals Round 1: Knockturn Alley

Pride of Portree

Chaser Three: Write about someone's first visit to Knockturn Alley.

Optional Prompts:

4\. (word) obsession

7\. (word) history

15\. (quote) 'At least you get the chance to meet me.' — Pokémon

Author's Note-Summary: This story takes place in the Dark Ages. The events take place before the events in the books. Severus is a doctor and Hermione is his helper, something less than an apprentice and more than a servant. They're friends. She has lived near his house forever and became his helper because not only was she fascinated by his work-healing people- but she fell for him too. She's barely more than a squib, but less than a witch. Severus loved her too,but he was too afraid to do anything, to let himself love her. Why? Because he had been hurt before. They could be the ancestors of our very own Severus and Hermione.

A Huge Thank You to Sarah, Tee and Oni for betaing my story!

Words: 1209

* * *

 _The Dark Ages….were dark for a reason._

Hermione is stepping foot into Knockturn Alley for the first time. She's stayed away from it for as long as she can remember, but she cannot avoid it any longer. It is such a dark place, but not because there is no light; it is more than that. It just seems to _emanate_ darkness.

It is freezing cold and she isn't really dressed for the weather. Truth is, she does not have the will to go through the trouble to dress for the weather anymore, not since they took _him._ As it is, she is already breaking the law trying and see him—her Severus. It's Christmas Eve and her heart cannot leave him alone; not tonight.

She saw the beating they'd given him earlier; deep down, she knows that he will not survive the night.

It's colder and darker as she goes further down the cobbled street; he is a prisoner in the building on the corner. Knockturn Alley is for prisoners and known for its shops catering to the Dark Arts, but its usefulness in detaining criminals means that the royalty turns a blind eye to the Dark Arts part. Real wizards come and go using magic while innocent people are tortured and left to die. Severus is sentenced to death and she desperately racks her brain to find a means for their escape.

Only too late does she realize that she _cannot_ live without him; he is her obsession, her reason to live.

His crime is wizardry. He is a doctor, but apparently his remedies have a reputation for working like magic. The irony is that he actually isn't a wizard; simply highly competent, unlike the idiots who accused him of the crime. But Hermione _does_ have magic— it's a small spark, but it reacts when she's attacked. The day it happened—the day Severus was arrested—he'd tried to stop two men from hurting her, and her magic had spilled out, knocking them over. He had taken the blame; protected her.

It was _all_ her fault.

Summoning the tiny spark of magic inside of her, Hermione slips through the wall. She needs to get him out of his dank cell if only so that he can die a free man. There are guards everywhere but they aren't watching him; they know he is too badly beaten to escape and it's most likely that he won't see the dawn of the new day.

The moon is bright, the sky clear; the night so icy it feels as if it might freeze Hermione solid with each breath of cold air she takes. By the time she reaches him, he is almost gone. She has loved him for as long as she can remember. He loves her too, but neither has had the courage to do anything about it. Now their time is slipping away. If only they had the magic to fix everything, but that is a mere fantasy.

He's in pain; so much pain that he does not know that he is freezing. Hermione feels the cold to the depth of her breaking heart.

Severus hallucinates; he talks about how his life might've been if he had not accepted the post of physician here, in London. Or if he hadn't needed to come to the Knockturn Alley so often because some important drugs could only be found there. He wonders aloud if things would still have turned out the same.

"At least you got the chance to meet me," Hermione says, and it's true.

She can almost hear him answer in that hypnotic way he has about him.

"Indeed." It is less than a whisper.

"But maybe we would have met. Eventually. In another life. When two souls are meant to be, they're meant to be. And I believe we were meant to be. I was just too afraid to do anything," he says, his voice weak.

He kisses her softly on the lips; it is their first and last kiss but in a freezing world, it is blessed warmth. Before the final sleep overtakes them, he whispers, "I wish I'd done that sooner."

* * *

In the morning, everyone searches for the missing prisoner. At first, none of them notice the two beautiful roses, one white the other black, rising from the ground, their leaves seemingly intertwined in a soft embrace growing in the corner of the alley. When they are finally discovered, many believe they are magical, but no one dares to cut the roses or remove them from where they grow. To call them _beautiful_ is not quite enough to describe their beauty.

Few people who knew both Severus and Hermione make the connection or realise that the two roses are their graves. The final resting place of two people who loved each other more than anyone else in the world. No one has ever seen anything like it, only heard about something similar, but that was said to have happened upon the graves of Tristan and Isolde. That's how the story of Severus and Hermione began, and generations were told of their great and tragic love. It was, of course, more of a legend—history intermingled with fiction—modified by time. But there are some who still remember that Severus and Hermione's love began in life, got admitted at Death's door, and continued in eternity.

* * *

 _Many, many years later…..in the summer of the year 1992._

"Harry! You shouldn't be seen here! What are you thinking skulking around Knockturn Alley? Dodgy place. Don't want no one to see you there. People will think you're up to no good!" says Hagrid looking sternly at the green-eyed boy in front of him.

But Harry isn't listening. His attention is drawn to a deep corner of the alley. He starts walking toward it, disregarding Hagrid's attempts to get his attention.

"Harry! What—?" But soon the man realises what has gotten the child's attention. Two beautiful roses, one black and the other white, grow from the stone, their leaves intertwined.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he says, mesmerised too, although he isn't seeing them for the first time.

"How did they grow like this?" Harry asks, not taking his eyes off the flowers.

Hagrid shrugs.

"No one actually knows. The legend say that this is the grave of two lovers who died on Christmas morning. The man, Severus, was a skilled doctor who had been accused of sorcery. You see in those times this alley was open to the Muggles; they used it for keeping prisoners here, while we used it for Dark Arts. The girl—Hermione was her name—was his helper, not a servant but not an apprentice either. She had come to see him and got him out; some say she used magic, others say that the guards weren't really paying attention because they had beaten the life out of him; they knew he wouldn't survive the morning."

Harry wipes a tear from his eye with one hand and extends the other to touch the roses. He hears a bell and he sees a bloodied man with black hair curled near a bushy haired girl, both laying in the snow. They seemed...familiar.

"Harry! Harry!" Hagrid is shaking him. "Are you alright?"

Harry shakes his head to clear his thoughts and then nods. He is sure that the two people he had seen are Severus and Hermione, but he doesn't want to tell Hagrid. In a way, it doesn't feel right.

Only then does Harry realise that the names of the persons he saw were the same with the names of two people he knew, Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts, and...Hermione Granger, Harry's best friend. They even looked similar.

Harry wonders if anyone else had ever made the connection. 'Probably not,' he decided.

"It's gettin' late, Harry. Come on, we need to leave!" Hagrid says and takes Harry by the arm, dragging him away.

With one final look back at the two roses, Harry sees two blooms—one black and one white—press against one another, though there is no wind. He knows that everyone thinks that he saved the Wizarding World as a baby through some sort of great power, but he knows that the only real power can be made through love.


End file.
